The song in this is by Mumford and Sons. I will be continuing Worthy is the Lamb, but I'm doing this at the same time.

Chapter 1

If you were to walk up the drive of a certain manor house in Wiltshire, two years after the war had finished, you would see elaborate metal gates with Malfoy Manor emblazoned across the top. If you knew anything about the wizarding world, this would immediately bring to mind images of elegance, wealth and long, white blond hair.

For this reason you would be surprised, if you continued up the drive and into the entrance hall, at seeing a young man with long, white blond hair tied into a neat, fishtail plat on his knees on the cold flagstones wearing nothing but worn jeans trying to light the fire in the huge fireplace. If you stayed to watch, you'd see him pouring a fire-starting potion onto the wood, then quickly jumping back as the flames roared to life. You would be even more surprised at seeing another man, so similar to the first in everything but age that he had to be his father, enter the room and kneel next to his son. They would be silent, but some communication would seem to take place as they stood and left the room in tandem.

If you followed them, you would see them go up stairs, enter a large room, probably the master bedroom, and begin to make the bed. They would strip the sheets and replace them with fresh ones in practiced motions. Then, once the bed was perfect, they would pick up the dirty sheets and any stray clothes. The older of the pair would take those and make his way out of the room and down the stairs. The younger man would take a final look around the room and leave then leave it. He would make his way downstairs and into the breakfast room. It would have large windows, facing east for the morning sun, and simple decor.

In the room, at the table, a young man would be sitting, whom the pale young man would attend upon, pouring his drink and serving him food. If you chose to take a closer look, you would see the man had black hair and a tall, string build completely at odds with the two men you had previously encountered. Perhaps then, this strange place you had entered was governed by physical rather than social stature. The darker man would be wearing robes, practical, rather than ornate, woollen ones because the manor is cold. Perhaps then you'd wonder why the other two men were wearing so few clothes. Their feet must be cold on the stone floor, and their bare chests must be freezing.

The darker man would glance at the one attending him and say in voice full of the confidence which comes with practice, "That will all, Draco."

Draco would nod and leave the room, make his way out of the grander part of the house and down to the kitchen. His father would be there making bread. They would exchange their meaningful looks and then Draco would start to do the laundry. The laundry is done by hand, there are no electrical appliances in the manor. All this used to be done by house elves, using their magic, but having house elves is illegal now. They're all in house elf colonies where they sit around fashioning clothes for each other and wondering what their poor masters and mistresses will be doing without them.

The older man would start to sing then, the first sound either of them has made. It would be sudden, almost harsh from having no introduction, his voice deep with just the right amount of gravel in it.

Cold is the water

It freezes your already cold mind

Already cold, cold mind

His son would join in, a slightly higher, smoother harmony.

And death is at your doorstep

And it will steal your innocence

But it will not steal your substance

But you are not alone in this

And you are not alone in this

As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand

Hold your hand

And you are the mother

The mother of your baby child

The one to whom you gave life

And you have your choices

And these are what make man great

His ladder to the stars

But you are not alone in this

And you are not alone in this

As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand

Hold your hand

And I will tell the night

Whisper, "Lose your sight"

But I can't move the mountains

For you.

The last verse would be regretful. They would move the mountains, they would do anything. But they can scarcely envisage what these mountains are, let alone how they might begin to move them. All they can give is this support, this heartfelt yet pitiable support for their brother. Not that either of them have siblings.

A door would slam above them, signalling that the master of the house has gone to work. Neither of them would pause in their work but a tension would leave them. The older would put the bread in the oven as the younger began to hang up washing. With these chores done they would go up stairs, and if you followed them you could watch them clear up breakfast from the table. The table cloth would be removed, more washing, and replaced with a clean one.

If you watched them for the rest of the day, you would be remarkably bored. They would clean each room of the house, barely stopping for a bite of lunch, then Draco would go outside to tend the horses while his father prepared dinner. When the master of the house returned, Draco would serve him dinner. He would be dismissed with the words, "That will be all Draco, you can tell Lucius that was very good."

He would go downstairs and help Lucius clean the kitchen before venturing upstairs to clean the dining room once he could be sure the darker man would not be there. With that done he and his father would eat a modest dinner and retire to the small room they slept in beside the kitchen.

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